


These Games We Play

by amyfortuna



Series: 2015 Season of Kink (Card 1) [18]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Maedhros's stump, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their usual 'tie me up and blindfold me' game, but tonight's a little different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfils my 'sensory deprivation' square for Season of Kink. 
> 
> Prompted by FFA nonnies (you bunch of enablers!) who wanted to see Maedhros fucking Fingon with his stump.

"Do you trust me, Findekáno?" Maedhros' voice was light and teasing, and he held up a strip of cloth so that Fingon could see it from his position on the bed. The question was somewhat pointless, as Fingon was already tied by each wrist and ankle to the bedposts, stretched out, naked and helpless. Fingon grinned. 

"This would be a lot more dangerous if I didn't," he said. "Are you sure you locked the door?" 

Maedhros cast a glance at the door, pretending to fail to remember. "I'm not quite certain," he said, the teasing tone still in his voice, and Fingon strained against his bonds, to Maedhros' smile. "I'll let you wonder about that, while I deprive you of your sight." He fastened the strip of cloth over Fingon's eyes, tying it to form a blindfold. "Can you see?" 

Fingon shook his head, suddenly quieted by the presence of the veil over his sight. He could see nothing, and it was calm in the black void. 

Maedhros pressed wax into his ears next, made soft and pliable with his hand. He could still hear Maedhros' voice but unless he spoke loudly, it was just a murmur in the background, a brook babbling softly away. Maedhros liked to talk whenever they did this: kept up a running stream of commentary, not usually expecting a reply from Fingon. If he needed a response, there were ways to get Fingon's attention that they had perfected over the years. 

A kiss followed, long and sweet, Maedhros kneeling beside him on the bed and leaning over, as evidenced by the weight of his body pressing down on Fingon's. Then Maedhros stopped his mouth, pressing a light muslin cloth over it, careful to leave Fingon able to breathe through both nose and mouth. The cloth was porous and would not hinder his breath, but would effectively serve as a reminder not to talk, would dull any sounds made. 

Every communication between them would be by touch from now on. 

Maedhros moved off the bed then, and left Fingon alone. This was the beginning of their ritual. At first Fingon strained to hear Maedhros walking around the room, or to catch a glimpse of his shadow through the folds of the cloth, trying to predict what would happen next. But nothing did - he could hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing, could not move. He could feel the warmth of the bedclothes beneath him, and sank into them, deliberately relaxing his body. With the relaxation of his body his mind began to let go too, and then he was no longer waiting, no longer needing, just existing, just breathing. 

Every time it was different - the first time Maedhros touched him in these games. Sometimes it was a hand running up his side, sometimes a kiss to his forehead, or a mouth on his nipple, or an oiled hand caressing his cock. 

This time it was a hand picking up his own left hand, bound at the wrist to one of the upper bedposts, and lips closing over the index finger, a hot wet mouth embracing him, a clever tongue lapping at him. He let out a gasp, his whole body coming alive at the sensation like every nerve ending in his body had centred on that finger. 

All too soon Maedhros let go, placing the hand back down gently. Fingon shivered a little with anticipation and arousal. A warm weight settled down over his left leg, Maedhros straddling him, and a hand - Maedhros' hand, the left one - stroked gently over his belly and reached up to tweak a nipple. 

There was a deliberateness about the way Maedhros moved that betokened something slightly different happening this night, and Fingon couldn't help but gasp while even as Maedhros' left hand was busy with his nipple, his right arm, oiled at the wrist, stroked over his erection, down and gently against his balls, and lower, to brush against his entrance. Maedhros' hips rocked forward, their erections just brushing. Maedhros was breathing so loud that Fingon could hear it even through the wax in his ears. 

Maedhros carefully, very gently, pressed inward with the stump of his arm, pushing it into Fingon's body. 

Fingon was suddenly thankful he had heeded Maedhros' earlier instructions to prepare himself thoroughly, because Maedhros' wrist was slightly bigger than his cock, and there were no fingers to warm him up, just the unyielding, oiled, warmth of his arm sliding inside him. He could feel every ridge of scar tissue as Maedhros entered him, and like before, his entire body seemed centred on the sensation, the warm pressure filling him up. 

The brush of Maedhros' hair against his chest oriented him a little again, drew him back from that perfect place of concentration. Maedhros' hand followed, as if to make the point that it was his right arm inside Fingon, stroking down over his chest and belly, delicately brushing the tip of his cock with soft fingers. All the while his arm kept pressing inward, slow and inevitable, and Fingon grew more and more relaxed to be able to take it, opening up for Maedhros, opening so wide for him. 

It did not hurt except entirely pleasantly, a faint stretch just beyond what he was used to, had taken many times before. Over him, Maedhros was speaking between harsh breaths, and just on the edge of his hearing, Fingon could make out what he was saying. 

"....my beautiful Findekáno, so responsive, open for me, my darling, let me in." The love and pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Fingon bore down, allowing the arm to fully slip inside, to fill him up completely. 

Very faint, Maedhros' voice went on, grounding him, steadying him even as he felt overwhelmed by the sensation of Maedhros inside him. "Do you know what a sight you make like this, open and hard for me, tied down for me, blindfolded for me? I could almost spend over you just from this view of you alone." Maedhros laughed, very faintly. "In fact, I think I will bring myself to release over your willing body now, and again a thousand times in memory when we are apart."

Maedhros' hand had left his body entirely, and Fingon could feel Maedhros' cock brushing against his own but it was drawn back and away from him as well. The arm inside Fingon began thrusting very carefully and slowly, and Fingon could feel Maedhros' hips moving against his thigh in a familiar rhythm. He arched up, knowing that Maedhros was touching himself, stroking himself to completion. 

Pressing inward, Maedhros' arm made contact with a place inside him that caused stars to explode behind his eyes with pleasure. He could feel, if not hear, his own breathless gasp in response, his arms shaking in their bonds, and strained upward for more sensation, selfishly desperate suddenly for Maedhros to take his hand off his own cock and bring it to Fingon's. 

But Maedhros did not take pity on him, and increased the speed of his thrusts, both with the arm inside him, and the hand moving over his own cock. Maedhros was vocal, so loud that Fingon could easily hear him now, moaning out his pleasure even as he kept control of what he was doing inside Fingon's body. Every thrust was deliberate, careful. 

And then all at once they stopped, Maedhros' arm still inside him. Fingon felt only Maedhros' hips stuttering against him, heard only the low frantic gasp of his name. Maedhros spilled over him, coming in warm wet pulses directly on his cock. The feel of Maedhros' seed on his own cock was maddening; Fingon was desperate, needing touch, needing movement, anything to spill and mingle their seed together. 

Maedhros, breathing harshly over him, began to move again inside him almost immediately, thrusting up, a little more forcefully than before. His hand moved to Fingon's cock, sliding and slipping in the evidence of Maedhros' release, moving up and down quickly in the way that Maedhros must have been using on himself seconds earlier. His quiescent cock brushed against Fingon's hip, adding to the overwhelming arousal that was taking over Fingon's whole body. He was entirely exposed, open and waiting for Maedhros to bring him to release. 

The cloth covering his mouth was suddenly torn away - Maedhros must have done it with his teeth, as his hand never left Fingon's cock - and Maedhros' mouth descended on his own, kissing him fiercely, pressing his tongue into him in the same way he was pressing his arm into him, in the same rhythm he was using to stroke Fingon's cock. His hair, too, trailed over Fingon's body, sliding against the sensitive skin of his sides and underarms, electrifying, overwhelming almost to the point of being too much to bear. 

Fingon cried out into Maedhros' mouth as Maedhros gave one last hard thrust directly against his prostate, and twisted his thumb over the head of Fingon's erection at the same time. And then he was coming hard, shaking and shivering against Maedhros' body, moaning helplessly into Maedhros' mouth, spilling over his own cock and Maedhros' hand, mingling their seed together. 

Maedhros withdrew from him carefully, drawing back from his mouth first with a final loving kiss, then giving a last tender stroke to his fading erection as Fingon shivered, spent, against him. His arm was last to withdraw, very carefully sliding out of him, still slick with oil. Fingon could feel himself twitching with overstimulation as Maedhros' stump came out of him, and was content to relax into the bed as Maedhros moved off of him. 

He drifted, almost feeling like he was floating, eyes closed even in the dark, thinking of nothing, only feeling the pleasant stretch and strain of his muscles, arms over his head, legs apart, body spread wide for his beloved. It seemed both an eternity and no time at all before Maedhros was back, untying his ankles first, deft fingers of one hand easily working the knots, then his arms, then turning his head this way and that to remove the wax from his ears, and finally removing the blindfold.

The room was dimly lit, just a candle next to the bed, and Fingon was grateful for that. Maedhros tossed the blindfold away, and Fingon made room for him to lie down next to him, giving Maedhros a sleepy, contented smile. Maedhros curled in next to him, putting his arm over Fingon's chest, and kissed his cheek. Fingon settled his hand over Maedhros' arm, gently caressing the scar tissue there. 

"Love," he said softly, and Maedhros smiled, not speaking now, nuzzling against him warmly, eyes alight with happiness.


End file.
